


Unwanted

by Arlewena



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Good Petunia Dursley, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, Hunter Harry, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Master of Death Harry Potter, Multi, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:30:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlewena/pseuds/Arlewena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadrea Grace Potter, commonly known as Harry, ends up in an unlikely situation when the Archangel Gabriel saves her from what should have been a fatal wound. She is thrown into a world and situation she is unprepared to handle, and perhaps worst of all, her past just won't leave her alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pale

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for taking the time to read my new story, I’m really excited for the direction this story is heading. The title of the story comes from Avril Lavigne’s song with the same name. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural, anything you recognize belongs to the respective owners of the two series.

_The world seems not the same_

_Though I know nothing has changed_

_It's all my state of mind_

_I can't leave it all behind_

_I have to stand up to be stronger_

\- Within Temptation

                The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the pink.

                Seriously, it was like Barbie had a house party that went seriously wrong. The kind when the parents—does Barbie even have parents? – come home to find everything trashed and covered in paint and who knows what else.

                The next thing I noticed… once my eyes adjusted enough to see anything beyond pink was that the room I was in appeared to belong to a six year old girl.

                I had no idea how or why I’d ended up here. I cast back, searching for the memory of whatever had happened before my period of unconsciousness in an attempt to find out who or what was responsible at least.

                The memory of my arrival here slammed into me like a two-ton freight truck on the highway.

                _Gold. There was golden light everywhere when I came to. I had no idea where I was or what had happened, but I could feel the light healing my body of mortal wounds. I lay still, like the dead, keeping my breathing shallow, in an attempt to figure out what was going on without giving away my alive, or at least my conscious state._

_I heard fearful murmuring near, so someone had noticed something, but who were they? Friend or foe?_

_“Wormtail! Check and see if the girl is actually dead!” called out a voice. I had to fight the urge to stiffen, because that voice… could not – he was dead! But my scar gave a twinge as if in contradiction and I knew, the voice undeniably belonged to Voldemort._

_I didn’t have time to focus on how this situation had come about, footsteps were drawing closer, and if the name was to be believed Voldemort’s miraculous return to living was not an isolated incident. I allowed my eyes to open a fraction, as the owner of the footsteps crouched down near me._

_The moment his hand reached out I was in motion. I grabbed his wrist and twisted, kicking out at his knees at the same moment. I heard his wrist give with a snap as he fell, but I was already grabbing his wand out of his pocket and rolling to the side as his silvery hand flailed in my direction and he screamed. I pulled out of the roll into a crouch, a cutting curse flying off my tongue, and then it was over. Wormtail collapsed with a gurgle, blood spraying from his neck._

_I slowly stood, eyeing my shocked audience._

_My shocked audience of people who should be dead. But I couldn’t focus on that now, as Wormtail had demonstrated they were very much alive. I could focus on the hows and whys later._

_But almost against my will a theory formed as my stomach dropped. Because I recognized my surroundings. We were in the graveyard of Little Hangleton, and sure enough the Tri-Wizard Cup glowed behind a headstone, though Cedric’s body was nowhere to be seen._

_I forcefully cut that line of thought off as Voldemort spoke._

_“So the girl has teeth after all… That was almost, cold-blooded of you. Mayhap you could be useful to me after all. What do you say? You could have everything you’ve ever wanted. Out from under your brother’s shadow. All you have to do is join me.”_

_I took a moment to absorb what he’d said, brother? And then I realized what he’d actually said._

_I couldn’t help it, I burst into uncontrollable laughter._

_“You… you can’t be serious!” I said through the laughter, “The apocalypse wouldn’t be enough to tempt me to your side. I should be the one telling you it’d be smarter to join me. ‘Cause I’m not sure how things have been before now, but there’s a new power in town baby, and it ain’t takin no prisoners”_

_“You will pay for your presumption Potter.”_

_And with that there was the bright red of a Cruciatus curse flying in my direction. And this, finally something I could deal with, could handle, when nothing else made sense._

_I took a half-turn to the right, acknowledging the body’s warnings that it would not put up with the strain of a battle for long—remembering that it had close to if not fatal injuries when I arrived. That in mind I decided I needed to keep this short. I didn’t know where the wand that belonged to the other me was, if it was even whole, but I had the wand I’d stolen from Wormtail, and it responded well enough to my desires._

_So as curses began to fly thick and heavy in my direction, I began to return fire, as I used my dodges to slowly make my way closer to where the cup lay. I didn’t see Cedric’s body, didn’t know if it had been there at all, and I didn’t waste time I didn’t have looking._

_When I was finally close enough to not be stopped once they realized what I was doing, I stood still and held my ground, unable to resist one last taunt at my first true Monster._

_“Keep my words in mind, any of you who ask nicely enough might be spared. ACCIO CUP!”_

_The last I saw before the world blurred was Voldemort’s considering look as I somehow heard him murmur, “You are not the Hadrea Potter who arrived here tonight.”_

_The note of curiosity in his voice sent a shiver of warning down my spine as the portkey took me from the graveyard to the Quidditch Stadium of Hogwarts, in the middle of a group of people who were both achingly familiar and completely unknown._

_“Voldemort, he’s back.” I stuttered, before my body finally gave out and collapsed from under me. I held onto consciousness by the skin of my teeth, memory telling me there was one more scene to be played before the act was over._

_There was confused screaming and shouting surrounding me, before someone pulled me to my feet._

_“Come-on Potter, let’s get you inside.” A gruff voice said._

_I allowed myself to be led, leaning heavily on the man who was wearing the skin of Moody but whose mannerisms gave him away as Crouch Jr. I fell back on my memory then, responding to questions and events the way I had the first time, clinging to consciousness with the last of my fading strength._

_I finally let go as the door slammed open, revealing not only the three rescuers I remembered, but three additions._

So that answered the question of what happened before I fell unconscious, and lent credence to the idea I was relatively safe where I was, though as Wormtail’s wand was nowhere to be seen I would hold-off on accepting that idea completely.

But I still needed to know how I’d ended up in this world, for I had no doubt now that I was able to examine the situation with a clear head that I was actually in a world not my own, there were too many differences for it to have been as easy an answer as time-travel.

I cast back further, looking to fill in the gap between pulling up to the Elysian Hotel with Sam and Dean and waking up to golden light.

Rather than slamming into me like the last one, this one simply slid into place, but with a latent ache like being sliced with an extremely sharp blade.

_I remembered the meeting of the pagan gods. I remembered the humans meant to serve as refreshments. I remembered Gabriel showing up as Loki and trying to get the three of us to leave, and then to convince the Pagans that it would be a bad idea to go after Lucifer. Remembered Lucifer actually showing up. Remembered Gabriel telling the three of us to grab the humans and go. Remembered Sam and Dean leaving, as I pretended to follow before slipping away when they were suitably distracted. Remembered slipping under the invisibility cloak and watching Lucifer strike down the pagans. Remembered Gabriel standing up to his brother. Remembered the fight that followed. Remembered the look on Gabriel's face—the resigned look of someone who knew that they weren’t making it out of this fight alive, but were determined to buy as much time for their allies and take as many enemies with them as possible. Remembered Gabriel using the trick that had fooled Sam and Dean when first they met. Remembered seeing Lucifer begin to move to stab the fake, but knowing instinctively it was a feint. Remembered making the decision before I had even thought about it, and rushing forward to shove Gabriel away in the nick of time. Remembered the burning pain as the angel blade went completely through me. Remembered thinking ‘in one side and out the other’ hysterically as I fell off the blade, the cloak floating down gracefully to my side. Remembered how everything froze for a moment as the angels took in what had happened. Remembered Gabriel’s wordless exclamation of denial. Remembered Lucifer’s look of curiosity before he shrugged and left. Remembered Gabriel gently lifting me up and the quick flight from there to the road in front of the impala. Remembered hearing the screech of the breaks as Dean slammed to a halt, and Gabriel spreading my cloak on the side of the road before laying me atop it. Remembered Sam and Dean's anxious faces as they ran up to us and started asking questions. Remembered hearing a gentle flutter of feathers before Cas was there as well. Remembered the warm, wet, stickiness of the blood seeping out of my body. Remembered what should have—and it’s always should have isn’t it?—been my last moments._

_“Why-- why the long faces?” I choked out between coughing up blood._

_Dean gave a bitterly amused snort, as Sam and Cas just frowned in silence and Gabriel seemed to be ignoring me entirely as he stretched his senses out to investigate the wound._

_“Tough crowd,” I muttered as my vision began to black out at the edges._

_Gabriel shook his head as he withdrew and I knew there was nothing he could do for an injury from an archangel's blade… not one this serious._

_“Bit anticlimactic really…” I mused, my voice faint._

_Normally by now I would have felt the rarely used magic of my station intervening as it had every time since the first, but though I could feel it straining, something about the angel blade seemed to be interfering. It being Lucifer I wouldn’t be surprised if something extra was coating the blade… though most poisons were ineffectual on me with the mix of Basilisk Venom and Phoenix Tears battling in my blood._

_“Myst…” Gabriel trailed._

_“Had to happen sometime right… something out there had to be able to actually take me down. Who knows it might not even manage to stick…”_

_“It never does…” I added in a slightly bitter aside._

_Unfortunately my comment seemed to spark something in Gabriel. The same type of determination I’d seen when he’d finally made the decision to face down Lucifer._

_Without a word he began emitting a golden glow bright enough Sam and Dean had to turn their heads. I couldn’t even though it burned my eyes to continue looking as he became radiant. He placed his hands on my chest, said something in Enochian, and pushed._

_Except it wasn’t a physical push. And before I could grasp what was happening I seemed to fall, except sideways._

_I remembered nothing more until waking up with a flash of gold._

                Oh. I wasn’t sure how to react. Gabriel shouldn’t have—but something about the angel blade had been interfering with the magic of my station, I had felt it then, and there was no way we could have known which would have won out in the end, though I felt Death would have in the end merely through virtue of being older—though what the consequences would have been there was no way of knowing, especially when I remembered that Lucifer had bound Death to him, for a time at least. So in the end I found I couldn’t fault him for his decision, though I may yet come to rescind that decision I thought, looking once more at the abomination of pink I was surrounded by.

                I supposed this must have been my alternate’s room… though I couldn’t believe any version of me would ever be okay with this much pink. And then I was faced with another question. If I was here in this body, in this world, what had happened to the Hadrea of this world?

                Remembering the injuries to the body when I arrived, and the words of Voldemort, I was forced to acknowledge that the Hadrea of this world was very likely dead. Which created another problem for me, because I had no knowledge of the world I had ended up in, and as already demonstrated it was very different from my own, and furthermore, from what I had observed the Hadrea of this world and I were different enough that it was unlikely I would be able to hold up the guise of still being her for long. Unless… considering where I was when I arrived I may have some leeway given the level of trauma I would be expected to be going through. I would just have to play the traumatized victim until I had enough information to make a decision on where to go from there.

                It was lucky I had come up with a temporary solution when I had, because not 2 seconds later the door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for reading. Constructive Criticism welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you everyone who left kudos, and bookmarked. It made me smile everytime I checked my email and saw them waiting for me. A couple of people have mentioned being confused as to Hadrea’s history, where she is now, and how exactly she is involved with the characters from Supernatural. All I can really say is: patience… all will be revealed in time. Please read and enjoy.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural, and make no profit from this work.

**Chapter 2: Pieces-**

_You're so tired trying to rewind the mess you've made of your own mind_

_(Woah) But the pieces won't pick up themselves, you know_

_You can fight just like you've been taught_

_It won't undo the life you've got_

_(Woah) 'Cause the pieces won't pick up themselves, you know_

\- Icon for Hire

Hadrea was blindfolded, attempting to reassemble the gun before her by feel and memory as her Aunt watched over her impassively. She fumbled, for what must have been the 5th time in as many minutes, causing her Aunt to heave a sigh in irritation.

“Get it together girl! God, sometimes you’re worse than Lily was I swear!”  she sniped.

Hadrea ignored the tone, focusing in on the first mention she’d heard of her mother since Aunt Petunia had grudgingly told her the name and fate of her parents when she was 3 and old enough to ask. That was two years ago now.

“Aunt—”

“Quiet girl, until you manage to assemble that gun!”

She closed her mouth with a snap, and redoubled her focus on the task in front of her.

When finally she succeeded 20 minutes later, her Aunt gave her a rare smile before telling her to get cleaned up and going to make dinner.

As they ate, she worked up the courage to ask her taciturn Aunt the question that had been on her mind.

“Aunt Petunia, what was she like?”

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Hadrea eagerly awaited the answer, wanting to add real details to the image of her mother she had created in her head.

She was tall, smart, beautiful, and kind. She was the greatest hunter to walk the land. She was the best, the greatest at everything. She was perfect, and—

“She was a stubborn fool.”

Hadrea was taken aback, and must have looked it, because her Aunt snorted.

“I suppose it’s about time you learned the rest of your history, what I know of it anyhow. Your mother grew up like you. A true Evans and all that that entails, but I suppose you could say we babied her and it did her no favors. She was sheltered from the true horrors of our world for a long time, and in our efforts to shield her from the bad we inadvertently shielded her from the true knowledge of the good we were doing, of how our life was not without thanks, and how without us many people would be much worse off; and also allowed her to construct an image of hunting in her mind that was completely inaccurate—she thought of it as glorious, romantic, the prince slaying the dragon and rescuing the princess with no-one worse off for the encounter and able to return home in time for dinner.

But she was the baby, and so while she was raised on the theoretical, and taught all the essentials, she was never allowed any real experience.

And stubborn fool she was, she chafed at being limited to research and occasional intelligence gathering on our weekend and holiday trips. She was 10 years old and determined to prove herself, and so she snuck along once.

It was one of the worse hunts we undertook; a Will-O-the-Wisp had been luring unwary wanderers to their deaths in a local marsh at night. What we had been unaware of was the fact that the spirit was leading travelers to the site of his death—the lair of a Kelpie he had stumbled upon when lost. Lily, ended up being the first to find the Wisp, and took it upon herself to follow it.

Your grand-parents and I had taken another route and were headed directly towards the lair which we had been able to finally pin down. We got there just barely in time. Lily had nearly drowned, and several of her ribs had cracked under the strain.

Having been sheltered for so long and to come face to face with the real danger associated with hunting like that, and at such a young age… she was never the same.

She began refusing involvement with hunting in any way, spending all of her time with that terrible boy down in Spinner’s End. He told her what she was, why strange things sometimes happened around her—which in hindsight I’ve come to believe our father already knew. That that was his reason for sheltering her the way he did. Because Lily was a natural-born witch, and the supernatural are drawn to those with magic in a way they aren’t to those without. Father had many theories on why that was, passed down from his father and his father before him, but with his journal lost I don’t know them.

When the letter came on her eleventh birthday, mother and father sent her off to that school with that boy to be trained, as they should’ve, because untrained magic can become very dangerous as one ages. But Lily saw it as an escape. She entered that new world and left everything else behind her. She didn’t come home for holidays and insisted on spending most of her summers with various friends. She rejected the hunter’s life, and turned her back on the family. When she came of age, she cut off contact completely, save a single letter proclaiming her marriage to James Potter and that she was very happy with her life and demanding we never attempt to contact her again. She didn’t so much as acknowledge our parents deaths. I was unaware she even had a daughter until you were left on my doorstep with nothing more than a letter explaining your parents’ murder and that I was your only remaining family, and furthermore, you’re best possible protection from the followers of your parents’ murderer through virtue of our shared blood. A protection which would extend to the household in which we resided for as long as you could call that place home and were under age in the magical world.

Of your father I only know his name and that he apparently was killed protecting your mother and you.

I took you in, for I could do nothing less, and decided to raise you in a manner befitting one of Evans blood, and not to repeat the mistakes we made with Lily. If for no other reason than the letter seemed vague on whether or not your parents’ murderer was actually dead, and his followers definitely aren’t, meaning at some point you will likely need to know how to defend yourself, and I could never have lived with myself if I did not warn you of what could be lurking in the dark. I will do my best to teach you as much as I can, before you have to leave to go to that school and be trained in magic—for there is little I can do for you on that front.”

She got up to go search for something, leaving Hadrea in a state of shock. What she had been told was so different from the image of her mother she had built up in her mind that she couldn’t reconcile it. She had done everything she could to live up to that image she had created of her mother, and now that she knew the truth she could feel the foundations of her world crumbling around her. She sat staring blankly ahead until her Aunt came back.

“Here,” she said, more gently than Hadrea had ever heard her before.

“This is a picture of your mother and that boy she used to hang around. You can keep it if you wish.”

Hadrea slowly took the picture. Her mother seemed to be maybe 13 in the picture, and was laughing at the camera, her arm wrapped around the boy beside her.

One part of her mental image had been correct at least. Her mother was beautiful. She had long, fiery red hair cascading in loose waves down her back. She was tall, slender, and fair. But it was her eyes which were her most striking feature: they were bright emerald green… and the same as Hadrea’s.  The more she looked the more similarities she was able to pick out. Her hair was a brighter shade of Hadrea’s, and she had the same mouth and nose. But there were differences too, which she supposed was probably where she took after her father instead. Having looked her fill at her mother, she turned her attention to the boy next to her. He was the same height as her mother and just as slender, but that was where the similarities ended. His coloring was pale, bordering on sallow, and his long dark hair hung lank around his face. His nose was large and slightly beaky, and his eyes were dark enough to appear black. He seemed uncomfortable next to the laughing Lily, his smile slightly fixed, but he also seemed drawn to her. He leaned in close, his arm going around her waist as if to draw her closer, his head was also tilted slightly towards her, as if he was fighting the urge to look at her rather than the camera. They were both dressed in what seemed to be a school uniform—she supposed the one for the magic school her Aunt had mentioned.

She flipped the picture over to see scrawled: Me and Sev, headed to Kings Cross, Third Year.

Strangely, the picture of her mother and the mysterious Sev allowed her to begin picking up the pieces and rebuilding her shattered foundation, with truths this time—she would never again allow herself to base her world image on imaginings and daydreams.

Her mother was Lily Potter nee Evans.

Her mother was beautiful.

Her mother was not perfect.

Her mother was a natural-born witch.

Her mother was trained as an Evans hunter.

Her mother was scared.

Her mother was not a hunter.

Her mother was dead.

Her father was James Potter.

Her father was dead.

Aunt Petunia was a hunter.

Aunt Petunia was not a natural-born witch.

Aunt Petunia was family.

Aunt Petunia was teaching her to be a hunter.

She was Hadrea Grace Potter.

She was five years old.

She was a natural-born witch.

Her parents had been murdered.

She was going to learn magic.

She was going to be a hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this little glimpse into Hadrea’s past, hopefully things will start coming together for you all soon. Thank-you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to everyone who is reading this, I’m actually a little astounded at the response it’s gotten, as I’ve never gotten a response like this before! I hope you all enjoy the next chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don’t own it. That includes characters, scenes, and places from both Supernatural and Harry Potter.

**Chapter 3: Hope of Morning-**

_My mind's a kaleidoscope, it thinks too fast_

_Blurs all the colors 'til I can't see past_

_The last mistake, the choice I made_

_Staring in the mirror with myself to blame_

_Sometimes I'm afraid of the thoughts inside_

_Nowhere to hide inside my mind_

_I'm scared that you'll compare and I'll look a lifetime past repair_

Hope of Morning- Icon for Hire

_ Previously- _

_I would just have to play the traumatized victim until I had enough information to make a decision on where to go from there._

_It was lucky I had come up with a temporary solution when I had, because not 2 seconds later the door opened._

            “Oh, my poor baby’s finally awake! Thank Merlin! We were so worried about you! It’s okay, you’re safe now, and we won’t let anything happen to you ever again!” A woman who could only be Lily Potter exclaimed, flying across the room to smother me in a monster embrace, tears soaking the shoulder of the nightdress I was wearing.

            I froze. ‘Ummm… what?’ This was so far from anything I had ever experienced before—except maybe a few times when I had freaked Hermione or… _Luna_ out, but that comparison was hardly an accurate one, and I shoved the painful memories to the side; allowing my face to freeze in a vaguely terrified expression and my body to remain relatively stiff and still.

            “Lily what?--” a man’s voice asked, before James Potter walked in the door. “Oh, Hadrea, you’re awake. Lily, you’re smothering her. Are you alright princess?”

            Prin-cess? I was officially in the fucking twilight zone now. The _only_ people to ever get away with calling me princess had been Draco fucking Malfoy and Dean fucking Winchester, mostly because they were a pair of stubborn bastards who delighted in winding me up anyway they could and as such refused to be broken of the habit.

            I had to react; I wanted to come across as traumatized yes, but not to the point of needing a trip to Saint Mungo’s.

            “Dad?” I questioned hoarsely, as Lily finally let go.

            “Yeah, princess, it’s me. Do you remember what happened?” he asked gently, as if I was a freaking piece of glass that would shatter at the slightest touch.

            I looked at him blankly for a moment before allowing a horrified look to cross my face before bursting into tears— I’d been able to cry on command since I was four… it was a useful skill to have.

            “Vo-Vo-Vo, he’s back!” I stuttered in between sobs. I was immediately wrapped in a _hug_ from both sides. I gave a mental shudder, sharing Dean’s dislike of so called chick-flick moments.

            They continued comforting me, Lily talking to me like I was a baby. I tuned them out in order to avoid breaking something… or some _one_.

            Finally, I allowed the ‘sob session’ to end.

            “Why don’t you get cleaned up baby? Your brother will come get you when dinner’s ready,” Lily cooed.

            I nodded; anything to get them out of the room. Once they’d left I realized I was facing a dilemma. While my so-called brother would be fetching me for dinner so I would be able to pretend I knew where I was going, I had no clue where the bathroom was. And I really wanted a scalding shower.

            Well, I wouldn’t find it lying here, so I got up to explore the room, shuddering again looking at all the pink. That would definitely have to go if I was going to be spending any length of time in here. I could not live like this. It was worse than the time the twins had dyed all my things pink as a joke, at least they’d used different shades and threw in the occasional splashes of purple, white, or black to keep things bearable the 24 hours I had to put up with it. I’d gotten my own back though. They’d had no idea what had hit them. This was much worse however. It was all the same shade of pretty princess pink, with the occasional splashes of white lace. And there were ruffles. So much ruffles. And hearts. And stars. And _glitter. Sparkles._

            It was traumatizing. How anyone could live in this without going absolutely batshit insane was beyond me… unless they were a four-to-six year old girly girl—like I would have imagined Lavender Brown or Pansy Parkinson.

            Looking around as little as possible, I made my way to one of the two doors my parents hadn’t come through in the room, surmising that one of them was likely the bathroom. The door opened to reveal it was a closet… though in my opinion it could hardly qualify. Finding something to wear was going to be a trial and a half. I could just hear Loki laughing at my situation. The jerk would find this absolutely hilarious. I didn’t even want to think of Dean or the twins’ reactions. Draco, at least, would understand my pain and be just as horrified. Shuddering, I began rifling through for something… tolerable. A task made infinitely more difficult by the fact that there were no trousers… everything was dresses or skirts. I finally pulled out a white short-sleeved collared button up from the very back, and a knee length, flowy purple skirt.

            Looking through the shoes along the floor I ran into another problem, they were mostly flats or sandals… which I tended to avoid. I dug around until I was finally able to find a tolerable pair of low-heeled, white ankle-boots.

            I then returned with trepidation to the long dresser in the room itself, in order to find some manner of underthings. And discovered my trepidation was while not totally unfounded, ultimately unneeded, as there was a very nice white satin bra and panty set available. Unfortunately that was where my luck ended, as I was only able to find panty-hose and stockings… no socks. Deciding I’d dealt with worse, I decided to go without… praying the boots were already broken in. No-one liked blisters.

            I considered going barefoot, but as I was in an unknown environment ultimately decided against it.

            Crossing my fingers I then opened the last door. I found the bathroom, but it was no better than the bedroom sadly.

            Before I got into the shower, I happened to catch a look at myself in the mirror. And abruptly dropped the brush I had been running through my hair in horrified shock.

            I’d realized, objectively, earlier that I was younger, and it was impossible to ignore the new extreme length of my hair… but I’d failed to fully comprehend what that meant. I’d also failed to realize how sheltered my alternate must have been.

            I was pale as freaking snow—like I’d never seen the light of the sun in my life. My hair fell in long, loose curls past my hips. I was about three inches shorter than my ultimate height. Worse, I had no muscle mass to speak of, as if I’d never done anything more strenuous than walk up the stairs in my life. But all of that paled when placed next to the _blankness._ The body was untouched. There was no scars baring the damned lightning bolt, no calluses, no piercings, and I realized with a minor jolt of terror, that all the protections I’d had tattooed in the other world were missing—and any internal ones were just as likely to be missing. There weren’t even any marks from the injuries present when I arrived, which I put down to the Grace I’d arrived with.

            I hated the body. In short I looked like a porcelain doll, and probably would be about as difficult to kill. This body would have none of the reflexes I’d spent years training into mine, gods dammit—hopefully the fact that they were still instinctual mentally would help. ‘Fuck’ I thought… I was probably a virgin again too—and that was unlikely to change as I was fourteen and unfamiliar with anyone who I would’ve considered at that age and one night stands were frowned upon, illegal, and likely to be dangerous at my age. Double fuck. Or rather no fuck…

            It was settled. Something was going to have to change. To calm my paranoia if nothing else… though it wasn’t paranoia if they really were out to get you was it?

            The bottom line was I felt helpless like this, and if there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was feeling helpless.

            I thought that decision might be easy enough to carry out without revealing anything—for all anyone else needed to know I was scared after my ordeal and wanted to be able to defend myself if something like that was to ever happen again. As long as I was circumspect with some of the more, _controversial_ portions of my training, I was unlikely to face too much opposition—hopefully. Unless Lily picked up on the fact that hunting was involved. Considering what Aunt Petunia had told me about her feelings on the subject, _that_ was likely to be a big no-no.

            Actually getting in the shower I discovered another problem. I had no idea what half this shit was for! I mean I was familiar with beauty products—indulged occasionally when I had the time and opportunity, but this was just ridiculous. I couldn’t even find the shampoo or conditioner! Why on or off earth would anyone need all of this? I was finally able to find the basics—shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a face scrub, at the very back of the array of product and left the rest of that minefield alone, not finding a need to bother with any form of shaving at the moment—as a matter of fact feeling rather too well shaved, as there was well… no hair anywhere not my head… and it made me feel slightly pre-pubescent, which I really didn’t want to focus on right now.

            So instead I took my scalding shower, unfortunately having to keep it short as I had no idea when my… brother—I flinched at the thought—would be coming to get me… or what the door policy was here. At Bobby’s the rule was if you didn’t lock it you were askin’ for the company, but unless it was an emergency locked doors were typically respected—unless you were an angel with personal space issues but that was another problem altogether, and at the Evan’s compound personal rooms had always been off limits unless you were invited in.

            I quickly started to dry off when I hit my next snag. I hadn’t really thought through the logistics of hair this long… but it was still dripping well after I’d started to towel dry it, and it didn’t seem to be getting any drier—this hair was going to be a menace to put up with and it was going to be the first thing to go when I started making changes—regardless of my decision on how visible those were going to be, there was no way I was going to put up with this regularly. I eventually ended up just braiding it to try and get it out of the way… and when that still didn’t work I twisted the braid into a bun to keep it out of the way—being fourteen again and nominally bound by underage magic laws sucked, and I was going to have to dig out the memories of how to circumvent them as soon as I had a chance.

            Finally having dealt with the hair I threw the clothes on and stepped back into the room. I glanced at the vanity where I could see an array of make-up of some sort, but decided to leave that for another day, I didn’t feel like dealing with it at the moment.  I ended up sitting on the bed after I’d made it up through sheer force of habit, and trying to clear my mind.

_I am Hadrea Grace Potter_

_My friends know me as Myst_ _which is short for Mystery_

_My mother was Lily Potter nee Evans_

_My mother was brave_

_My mother was a coward_

_My mother was dead_

_My father was James Potter_

_My father was a bully_

_My father was loyal_

_My father was dead_

_My family is not bound by blood ties_

_My family was bound by blood, sweat, and tears_

_Aunt Petunia and Dudley Dursley were family_

_Fred and George Weasley are family_

_Blaise Zabini was family_

_Neville Longbottom was family_

_Draco Malfoy is family_

_Hermione Granger was family_

_Luna Lovegood was family_

_Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were family_

_Bill and Fleur Weasley are family_

_Sam and Dean Winchester are family_

_Bobby Singer is family_

_Ellen and Jo Harvelle were family_

_Cas is family_

_Gabriel is family_

_I am not in my universe_

_The people who exist here are not my family despite sharing the same faces_

_I am a natural-born witch_

_I am a soldier_

_I am a commander_

_I am a martyr_

_I am a friend_

_I am part of Team Free Will_

_I believe in truth_

_I am a hunter_

I ended the list on the foundation of my truth when I heard the door open, looking up to see a boy of about 14. He was maybe an inch taller than me and had a chaser’s build—not bulky, but not exactly small either. His hair was dark like James’; in fact he looked like a carbon copy of the pictures I’d seen of a younger James Potter… except for the eyes. His eyes were a hazel green, not the pure hazel of James, but not the emerald of Lily either, sitting somewhere in between. This must be my… I couldn’t think of him as my brother, the only person I had ever called brother was Dudley and he was long dead now. I didn’t even know his name, I couldn’t let him into that space, not now.

“Hey, Hadrea,” he said softly, not quite looking at me. “Dinner’s finished, are you ready to go?”

I just nodded and followed him out of the room, taking care to memorize the hallways we turned down to get to the dining room. The house seemed to be practically a manor! I thought about that for a minute and realized that while I didn’t often acknowledge it, the Potter’s were just as much of an old pureblood family as the Malfoys, or the Longbottoms, or the Black’s… so there was every chance that this was in fact a manor…

We finally made it to the dining room and James and Lily looked up, “Eric, Hadrea, there you are,” James said. So Eric was his name.

Before we could say anything Lily did a double take, “Hadrea! What on earth are you wearing?! Where are your stockings? You didn’t do your make-up? What if we’d had guests?”

She looked like she would have gone on if James hadn’t put a hand on her shoulder before turning to wait for my answer. I realized Eric was looking at me as well. Balls, I hadn’t expected to run into trouble for how I’d dressed— I should have thought about the fact that given what I’d seen of the closet this was definitely not how the other me normally dressed. Oh well, I was planning on playing the traumatized survivor anyways, might as well start now.

I blinked at Lily blankly before slowly looking down at myself as if I’d only just realized exactly what I was wearing… and missing. “Oh,” I murmured, “I just wasn’t paying attention I guess.” I left it at that, and didn’t put any inflection into my voice. I could see them all wince before immediately softening.

            “Oh, my poor baby, it’s okay, we’ll get you better. I’ll help you in the meantime so we can make sure you look your best, even if you don’t feel it. Alright angel? It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. You were just confused, but a few more days of rest and you’ll be okay. Do you feel alright? Oh you must be so tired standing there, come-on sit down. Dinner will be out in just a minute,” she prattled as she hugged me and then proceeded to steer me to a seat.

            I hadn’t quite prepared for this outcome… help me? This was going to be a nightmare, I just knew it. I wasn’t sure how to correct it however, so I would just have to cross that bridge when we got to it.

            I didn’t speak much during the rest of the meal, but it didn’t seem like they expected me to. However they did seem to be keeping the topic to inconsequential things— probably worried about traumatizing the _poor innocent baby_ further. I hid a grimace. However the conversation wasn’t entirely useless. I was able to gather information on some of who was still alive. Remus was mentioned, as was Sirius—though both with wary sideways looks my way. The Weasley’s were apparently very close with the Potters, but the one time Eric mentioned Neville it was with distaste and I wondered what had happened there. I also gathered that James and Sirius both worked for the Ministry in some capacity.

            The only time I was spoken to was when James turned to me to say, “Oh, and Professor McGonagall sent over the work you missed the last few weeks of school. She said that as your Head of House she was able to excuse you from your end of year tests this year, not that Dumbledore was arguing but as he is a very busy man it had slipped his mind.”

            I nodded absently, but my mind was in shock. McGonagall was my head of house? But that would make me…. _a Gryffindor._ If I hadn’t known I was in an alternate universe before I was certainly aware now. I mean, yeah I’d had the option, but there had never been any doubt that I was a Slytherin at heart.

            Not that I’d been acting it recently, I thought with a mental snort. Jumping in front of the blade for Gabriel? Though, given, I’d always had a so called saving-people-thing… that was only amplified when it was someone I knew and was close to. However mouthing off to Voldemort like I had? I had obviously been spending too much time with Dean… that was a stupid Gryffindor move if ever there was one. And one that was probably going to come back to bite me later I thought with a wince thinking of his words as I left.

            Just as I was about to beg to be dismissed as I was _really tired still_ the fireplace flared green as the wards chimed. Which reminded me that I would have to figure out what wards were in place and what they did before I did anything. Shit just kept piling up. And to put the fucking cherry on top, out stepped _Albus_ fucking _Dumbledore_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you thought, please.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you everyone who commented, subscribed, bookmarked, or left kudos. I’m glad everyone seems to be enjoying so far. This chapter is my favorite so far, despite the content, and I hope you all enjoy it.  
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Supernatural both belong to their respective owners, I’m just borrowing.

**Chapter 4: Superman-**

_I wish that I could cry_

_Fall upon my knees_

_Find a way to lie_

_'Bout a home I'll never see_

_It may sound absurd but don't be naïve_

_Even heroes have the right to bleed_

_I may be disturbed but won’t you concede_

_Even heroes have the right to dream_

_And it's not easy to be me_

Superman- Five for Fighting

 

           “Congratulations, Harry! You did it! I don’t know how but Lucius managed to get the warrant for your arrest appealed!” Hermione shouted, rushing into Harry’s current office where she was looking over the most recent supply line reports Luna, Neville, and Andromeda had drawn up.

           “What?” Harry questioned looking up from her report shocked; she hadn’t expected results on that front for months.

           “You know what this means, right?”

           “What?” Harry humored the excited brunette.

           “It means you can enter the ministry now without having to worry about a direct attack! This could change _everything._ As the Potter head and Black heir you hold quite a bit of power in the Wizengamot and being the girl-who-lived still carries quite a bit of weight, even if most won’t admit it openly. It helps that you are the face of the resistance and responsible for every gain we have made in this war, particularly after our predecessors practically screwed us over,” she finally paused to breathe, and Harry smiled.

           “That’s great! This will allow us to push our agenda forward much earlier than expected. However,” she grimaced, “it also means I haven’t prepared for actively playing politics yet. I hate to ask, but—”

           Hermione interrupted with a scoff, “Of course I will help you prepare. I already have a basic information packet prepared for you; because I know for all you claim that I’m overworked you spread yourself just as thin, if not thinner. It has the who’s who, the basic rules and etiquette, and an overview of the laws we are most concerned with at the moment. I’ll have a more comprehensive packet ready by the end of the week.”

           “Hermione, I don’t say this often enough, but you are amazing.”

           “Nonsense. I’m just doing my job. Besides,” she added with a grin, “what are friends for?”

           They sat in silence for a few moments as Harry skimmed through the packet Hermione handed her, and Hermione set about trying to bring some order to Harry’s desk.

           “Umm… Myst,” Hermione hesitantly started.

           “Uh-oh must be important if you’re bringing out the Marauder names. What’s up?”

           “I—I just, you work so hard and we appreciate it we do—but even you need to take a break sometimes and I know you haven’t really had a chance to relax since Petunia, and I-I,”

           “Swift, you’re rambling,” Harry interrupted, feeling a pang at the mention of Petunia but pushing it aside for now.

           Hermione took a moment to gather herself, and started again, “Myst you need to take a break. I am throwing a small get-together at my current safe house, and I want you to come. Luna is of course invited as well,” she stated firmly.

           Harry shook her head, “Of course I’ll come, Mione. I can always find time for friends, but is it safe to have people at your safe-house? If the Death Eaters got that information you know what would happen.”

           Hermione shrugged, “I’m planning to relocate soon anyways so I figure I’ll be fine for the time being. Besides, I’m only inviting those I trust absolutely.”

           Harry swallowed her misgivings, “Alright, but I’d prefer if you relocated sooner rather than later. Luna left on a diplomatic mission a few hours ago, so she unfortunately won’t be able make it. How should I arrive, and when?”

           “Apparition would probably be easiest, the back door opens to a relatively secluded alleyway. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll lower my shields for you.”

           Harry nodded, waving her hand to close the door and activate the stronger set of wards on her office. She then made eye-contact and gently eased her way into Hermione’s mind just far enough to pick up the coordinates and then retreated.

           “As for time, any time after 6 will be fine. If you could also manage to smuggle us some hangover potions, that would be great,” she added.

           “After six and bring hangover potions. Got it.”

           It was nearing two in the morning and Harry and Hermione were the last two awake, laying together on Hermione’s bed—Ron having passed out on the couch about an hour and a half ago. Harry’s head was on Hermione’s stomach and Hermione was idly running her hands through Harry’s short hair.

           “Do you ever wonder about what you’ll do? After I mean?” Hermione asked, surprisingly lucid for the amount of alcohol they had consumed.

           Harry thought about platinum blonde hair and wide blue eyes, and answered, “Sometimes,” in a whisper, as if it was forbidden. “I don’t think I could stay here,” she confessed a few moments later, “but I would if…” she trailed off again, not daring to voice her dreams out loud.

           “You’d stay for her,” Hermione observed. “I- I can’t see Ron ever wanting to leave, but sometimes, sometimes I just want to run. Run and run until I don’t see blood and death in every rock and stone. I-I just, I just want to forget sometimes, want to leave it all behind. What do we owe this world? Really? They dragged us in and then told us to fight their wars without help, expected us to fix all their mistakes. I’m-I’m scared if we stay that we’ll never be free. After this—if we win—after everything we’ve done… You saw how they treated Moody… they’ll wrap us up in laws and registrations so tightly that we’ll never have any freedom again. They’ll put us wherever they want us and, and—I-I can’t live like that Harry, _I can’t._ ”

           She seemed to be on the edge of tears.

           “Me too,” Hadrea slowly, haltingly gave voice to what she hadn’t dared to admit even to herself.

           Hermione suddenly sat up, eyes bright, pulling Harry with her, “Hadrea, promise me. Promise me that you won’t let them trap you. That if you get out alive that you’ll run and run and never look back. We’ll go together, and-and, somehow we can convince the others.”

           Harry was startled by her sudden fervor. “Hermione…”

           “No. Promise me. No matter what happens that if you survive you get out, get away. Don’t let them make you a puppet figurehead. Don’t let them put out your fire. _Please,_ ” she insisted.

           Hadrea slowly nodded, “Alright. We’ll win their war and then we’ll pack up and go. All of us. They can fix their problems on their own. We’ll run to the edge of the earth, see everything there is to see. We’ll live like nomads,” she ended laughing.

           “And we can make Ron and Neville our pack mules, and Fred and George will take care of anyone who bothers us, and if they aren’t enough Draco can just order them away,” Hermione added.

           “And Luna can discover all sorts of weird animals, and Sirius can catch us dinner, and we’ll just sit and supervise of course. We do all the work now, so it’s only fair that they take their turn.”

           “And Remus can document everything we do and Severus can scare all the wildlife away with his scowl.”

           They both burst into giggles at the idea of Severus glaring little bunnies into submission, before calming down and beginning to doze off.

           Right before she fell asleep, Hadrea heard Hermione whisper, “Thank-you.”

* * *

 

           It had been five days since anyone had heard anything about Hermione, and the Generals’ council was convening to exchange notes on what they’d found and to decide what to do.

           “Alright. We all know why we are here. General Granger is missing. Captain Lupin is representing the Sages in this council. Vice-Commander Longbottom, if you would start us off,” Hadrea ordered after the last representatives walked through the door, waving a hand to close the door and activate the wards on the room.

           There were 19 Generals in all, not counting the missing Sage General, and many of them had brought along their Captains as well if they were free.

           Commander Potter was at the head of the table with Vice-Commander Longbottom on her right-hand side. Captain Lupin was seated to her left, as it was his department that was most affected, and with General Granger missing, he was currently acting General.

           Vice-Commander Longbottom stood. “What we know now is this. General Granger was last seen five days ago when she stopped by General R. Weasley’s office after delivering some papers to Commander Potter. General Weasley, if you would?”

           Ron was pale, but shakily stood. The Tactical General’s voice was steady in contrast to his appearance when he spoke, “Hermi—General Granger came by my office late in the evening. She said she had had a packet to deliver to Commander Potter, and figured she would stop by my office before she left to set up a later meeting,” that that meeting was a date went unsaid, but was acknowledged all the same, “She then told me she planned to go to her safe house to finish preparing for her relocation. That was the last time I saw her. I realized something was wrong when she did not show up at the location we’d planned to meet at and sent out the alert.” Finished, he slumped back into his seat, Captain Krum putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

           At this point the Warding General stood without prompting. “Upon receiving the alert we ran a check on the wards and security tapes and found nothing amiss,” Bill started, “Following protocol, we then went to General Bones to receive permission to locate and investigate her safe-house. Upon arrival it was obvious that there had been a struggle, as the door was in shards and furniture knocked over. As we investigated, we discovered that her ward scheme had been forcefully dismantled, presumably by a powerful ward-breaker. Captain Creevy, if you would present your findings,” he said, turning to the Captain of Security, who nodded before standing and continuing the report.

           “In order to attempt to better determine what had occurred my team first attempted to access General Granger’s personal security system, unfortunately the Death-Eaters seem to be learning as the system was completely fried. We then attempted to find local security cameras, but General Granger was thorough, and the only camera we managed to find gave us a blurry view of her front door. We were able to determine that there were at least four attackers, though more may have gone through the back. We were unable to identify them however, for they were wearing the standard mask and robes.”

           Finished he sat down as Vice-Commander Longbottom stood once more, “The situation was then brought to my attention as the victim was a member of this council. I appointed Captain Lupin as acting General for the duration of General Granger’s absence as she instructed. I then notified the rest of the Council of our meeting and asked that they bring any information they could find. I now ask any who have information to share it. Captain Lupin?”

           Remus shook his head, “I was unable to discover anything in General Granger’s notes, and no one in my department has come forth with information.”

           Neville nodded, “General W. Weasley, have you discovered anything further?”

           Bill nodded, standing once more, “Upon further investigation, we have been able to determine that General Granger managed to kill at least one of her attackers. We also found evidence that there was an ambush already in place when General Granger entered the house, and the four that attacked from the front served as a distraction.”

           “General Snape?”

           The sallow man stood, his single eye glaring at the table, “My order was able to ascertain that General Granger is indeed being held by a Death Eater. She was apparently brought before the Dark Lord who, upon being unable to glean any information from her mind or through conventional methods, gave her over to one of the higher ranked Death Eaters to work over, in hopes that she would be more vocal. Unfortunately we were unable to determine who exactly is currently keeping her prisoner. We are however able to ascertain that the veritaserum inoculation General Sprout’s division created seems to work as it should. We have also compiled a list of the Death Eaters or their associates who are known to be powerful enough to dismantle her wards, which has been passed on to General Black’s division.”

           Neville nodded, any method to prevent the Death Eaters from discovering important information that was proved to work was good news. “Thank-you, General Black, anything to add?”

           Sirius shook his head, “None of our guests are fresh enough to know anything about this plan. We’ll need new sources to find anything. Also, our Captain of Legimancy has informed me that the most recent prisoners seem to have found a method to block Legimens without the use of Occlumency.”

           There was a round of frowns at that news.

           “That is… troubling,” Neville said, before turning to the Diplomatic General, “General Lovegood, have our allies heard anything concerning our current situation?”

           Luna shook her head, “They have heard nothing, however we have received offers from the Vampire Clans to the North to track her scent in exchange for a new batch of willing donors, and the forest spirits have offered to scry her in exchange for regular offerings of seeds.”

           “We shall take their offerings into consideration, Co-Generals Weasley?”

           Fred and George stood up, “We had no information to offer the council at this time,” Fred started, “However we are willing to send a retrieval team if we are able to ascertain General Granger’s location,” George finished.

           “General R. Weasley?”

           Ron just shook his head.

           “General Burgess?”

           Matthew Burgess was a rather weedy looking man, with sandy hair and one brown and one blue eye, but despite his appearance the Hunter Liaison and General of the Hunter Division was a force to be reckoned with, and his ability to network in the notoriously paranoid hunter community just reinforced that.

           “We’ve heard nothing, but we’ll keep an ear on the ground, so to speak.”

           “General N. Tonks?”

           “The latest batch of trainees will complete their training in two days, but I’ve heard nothing concerning General Granger’s disappearance, which may be a concern in and of itself, because there’s not even been the normal gossip and speculation.”

           “That might be something to look into,” Neville allowed before turning to the Healer General. “General Pomphrey?”

           “None of my patients have heard anything. We are also running low on blood replenisher and surgical thread again.”

           “General Malfoy?”

           “There’s been some general excitement among some of the known associates of the Death Eaters, but nothing more concrete than that.”

           “General Bones?”

           “Nothing at this time.”

           “General A. Tonks?”

           “We are short on blankets and shoes in the shelters, but no news on General Granger.”

           “General Shacklebolt?”

           “The Traditionalist Advisory Council would like to once again recommend permanent bodyguards for anyone of General rank and our Commander and Vice-Commander as a method to prevent more situations of this kind.”

           “General Hagrid?”

           “The paired divisions would like ter offer their services in any retrieval effort.”

           “We will keep that in mind. General Sprout?”

           “We have nothing to report on the subject of General Granger; however we are happy to announce that we can produce enough of the Veritaserum Inoculation for this group by the end of next week, and for the Captains within the next three months.”

            “That is good news. General Flitwick?”

           “Nothing.”

           “General Finch-fletchy?”

           “A little late for General Granger, but we believe we have finally been able to produce a chip that will allow us to track anyone with it even in magic rich environments.”

           Neville nodded, he and Hadrea were hesitant about the concept, but had been forced to admit its potential usefulness.

           “We will reconvene in half-an-hour to go over what we plan to do with the information we have gathered.”

           They all moved to stand and stretch, several personal conversations popping up as Neville and Hadrea retreated to the anteroom, with Hadrea’s notepad.

           Once the door had closed and the wards activated, they both slumped in exhaustion.

           “Neville, it's Hermione. We can’t just leave her,” she pleaded.

He shook his head, “And we won’t, but you and I both know we can’t afford to give the vampires any more donors. The forest spirits’ request is not unreasonable, if Pomona allows that we have the extra seeds, we can afford to work with them.”

“I’m just scared that scrying won’t be enough. And our tracking division isn’t even close to good enough to get through the level of wards she will be under. The Northern Vampire Clans may be the _only_ ones capable of tracking her,” she grimaced. Hermione was her friend, but Neville was right, they couldn’t afford to renegotiate their contract with the Northern Vampire Clans again.

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, “So we set Pomona and Luna to negotiating with the forest spirits, and respectfully decline the vampires’ generous offer.  We should also schedule all the Generals for the inoculation as well as ourselves.  However I’m not so comfortable with Justin’s new device should it prove to work, what do you think?”

“I think… we can’t ignore the potential uses… but we also can’t ignore the possible dangers. For now I vote that those who would like the chip can get it but that it will not be mandatory. What do you think we should do about the worrying lack of gossiping in Tonks’s recruits?”

“I think we should have Sirius send in Fleur. On that note, while we have a retrieval team on standby we should see if our next raid can provide some more knowledgeable prisoners… We should also have Sprout and Flitwick analyze this Legimancy barrier and see if we can find a way around it, and recreate a version for ourselves.”

“That may be useful. We should set Ron on planning a raid that will get us what we need. We also need to have Luna and Andromeda work with Poppy and Pomona to see if we can fix our current deficits before they become serious.”

Harry nodded, before grimacing, “We won’t be able to put the traditionalists off much longer, not without inciting rebellion.”

He also grimaced, “No. So far the excuse of not knowing who the spies are has worked, especially after McGonagall was revealed as a traitor, but this incident will just give them fuel to push their demands through unless we can think of an alternative.”

“So we have Kingsley tell them we are considering, and the two of us pull a few of the others into a council to come up with that alternative when we can.”

He nodded and they spent the remainder of the time until they reconvened in a comfortable silence.

  

* * *

         

           Hadrea took a deep breath before nodding at Lucius and Sirius and apparating a few blocks down from the ministry building. This meeting would show whether their hard work the last several weeks had paid off and they had to be at their best. Keeping a wary eye out, Sirius and Lucius flanked her as she made her way to the ministry.

           They froze in shock when they reached the atrium. A crowd had already gathered, but was keeping its distance, staring.

           Hadrea sucked in a shocked breath, falling back into Sirius. _No._ It was Hermione. She was hanging from the ceiling in the facsimile of a grotesque angel, her arms spread to either side, with Raven feathers forming sleeves in an imitation of wings. Raven feathers she recognized with a sense of horror as belonging to Hermione’s animagus form. She was wearing a dress that had probably been white to start, but was now stained red with blood. Her hair and the feathers were matted in it. Her cheeks were hollowed, and her hands skeletal. Her eyes were sewn open, the brown dull in death. Her expression was pained, as if she’d spent her last moments screaming.

           Hadrea recognized the handiwork as belonging to Barty Crouch Jr. and wanted to throw up. She began shaking, shaking with horror, with grief, with burning, furious, _rage._ This was a mockery of everything Hermione stood for. The wings a representation of the freedom she’d wanted so desperately and would now never have. She felt her eyes sting, but she could not cry, not here, not now, not while she was the Commander of a war yet to be won, not while Hermione’s murderer, her _torturer_ was still out there _alive_ while she was not.

           Lucius put a hand on her shoulder, and she gave a jerky nod, standing up straight. She still had a job to do. Hermione would want her to carry on, to complete the work she started.

           “Sirius,” she was glad her voice was steady, strong. “Contact the Mayhem and Havoc Generals, and have them send a team to retrieve the body. We need the Healer General to know to be on standby to perform autopsy and confirm that the handiwork is Crouch’s. We also need her to send someone to tell Ron and have him come to confirm identity. Then summon Vice-Commander Longbottom and have him gather anyone else he trusts with a title and meet us here in two hours. After you have done this, meet us in the usual conference room. We need to rework our plans. We need to make a statement. We will not allow this to go unanswered.”

* * *

 

           Harry looked up when there was a knock on her door, “Come in,” she called, sitting up and trying not to look as tired as she felt. Ron entered the room, looking drawn and haunted, and took a seat in front of her desk. He then handed her an envelope.

           “What’s this?” she asked, a sinking feeling forming in her gut.

           “My resignation,” he answered hoarsely.

           “Ron—” she started but he cut her off harshly.

           “NO. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t focus on anything other than hunting down her killer right now. I am not fit to lead at the moment, and my division is suffering for it. Viktor is more than capable of replacing me, and I’ve left everything in order so there should be no arguments against him doing so. I am also requesting leave to take a small team of volunteers from the men to hunt down and eliminate Crouch,” he spat the name like a curse.

           She stared at him for a long moment, knowing there was no changing his mind. Finally she nodded, “Request granted, see General N. Tonks about volunteers and present her with this,” she handed him a quickly drafted note with her seal and signature. Ron nodded, getting up to leave.

           “And Ron?” he stopped to look at her, “Give the bastard hell,” she snarled—she couldn’t take the time to take him down herself, she had responsibilities she could not, would not abandon, but she could do this. Could allow Ron to chase after vengeance for both of them.

           He gave her a cold grin before leaving, and she knew that he would not stop until Crouch was dead.

* * *

 

_Report on Mission 8215_

_Submitted to Commander Potter_

_Co-submitted to Vice-Commander Longbottom, General Krum, and General N. Tonks_

_24 June, 1999_

 

_Free-Lance Agent Ronald Weasley, took a group of 25 soldiers to the location provided on Death Eater Barty Crouch Junior on 19 June, 1999 in an attempt to eliminate Crouch and any Death Eaters found with him. They arrived on site at 11:00 hours and set up an ambush. At 12:00 hours the ambush was sprung and battle was joined. Due to incorrect intelligence as to the numbers of Death Eaters to be present, Rebellion forces, despite the advantage of surprise were soon overrun by vastly superior numbers. Agent Weasley issued orders for those remaining alive to retreat, but made no move to do so himself. Orders were ignored by all present. Agent Weasley completed mission aims by taking out Death Eater Crouch with a bombardment curse to the gut, and once more issued orders for a retreat, this time moving to do so himself. Retreat proved impossible without a distraction, and Agent Weasley thanked those with him before diving back into the midst and activating Device F-802. Honoring his choice, this time orders were followed. Those able left the premises and observed them destroyed, before returning to base. Agent Weasley assumed dead, but with no body the death is unconfirmed. 16 of the 25 accompanying soldiers also assumed dead with visual confirmations for 4. 7 of those remaining reported to medical for treatment of wounds with 2 succumbing to their injuries after._

 

_Lieutenant Allison Coleborn_

_General Battalion_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hate me yet? Thank-you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you all for being so supportive. I forgot to mention last chapter, but the military structure from the previous chapter is not meant in any way to resemble a real military structure. The titles are basically arbitrary, but more should be explained on that in future chapters. Just wanted to let everyone know that yes, I know that military hierarchy doesn’t work like that.  
> Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor Harry Potter.

**Chapter 5: Mirror-**

_I look in the mirror_

_And I try to understand_

_And piece it together_

_Wash the blood from both my hands_

_I can't see the ending_

_There are people who know my every secret_

_I'm tired of pretending_

_You're in my heart_

_In my heart_

Mirror- Ellie Goulding

_ Previously- _

_Just as I was about to beg to be dismissed as I was_ really tired still _the fireplace flared green as the wards chimed. Which reminded me that I would have to figure out what wards were in place and what they did before I did anything. Shit just kept piling up. And to put the fucking cherry on top, out stepped_ Albus _fucking_ Dumbledore _._

Just looking at him was enough to make me boiling angry. While I may have found some sympathy for his position as the war wore on, there was no excuse for many of his actions, and if he had survived long enough I would have seen him pay for each and every one of his plans _for the greater good._

I froze in place, locking down mentally and praying for control. Well, I say praying but there are very few who I am willing to pray to anymore so…

            “Ah, perfect, Hadrea dear, you’re awake. I hope you’re feeling better?”

            I didn’t respond, and avoided his eyes, giving a jerk of my head that could pass for a nod… barely. It was too early to blow my cover I told myself. I needed to play nice.

            “Good, good. I hope you won’t mind if I ask Hadrea here a few questions, James, Lily? We need to ascertain what happened that night, the sooner the better.”

            Lily looked mutinous at first but James again touched her arm and she settled.

            “Of course headmaster, we’ll leave you to it. Come on Eric,” he said, leading the other two out.

            Damn it. Why couldn’t at least one of them insist on staying? It would help me remember to control myself. I took a deep breath, focusing:

_I am a Slytherin._

_I am a hunter._

            I turned my chair slightly to face where Dumbledore was seated, crossing my ankles in a move designed to both make me seem more comfortable and to prevent me from assuming a position that screamed _fight or flight._

            My alternate had been a Gryffindor, and from what I’d gleaned from my parents, trusted Dumbledore. I would have some leeway for being jumpy after what I’d supposedly been through, but I couldn’t be confrontational the way I wanted to be. It was bad enough Voldemort knew something was off about me; there was no need to alert Dumbledore too... not before I had a plan. I was of course, hampered severely by my lack of knowledge of my alternate’s mannerisms and habits—as demonstrated by my clothing gaffe.

            So I decided to keep it short, brief, and concise, with an edge of horrified terror at what had happened. I waited in silence for Dumbledore to make the first move, fidgeting with my skirt and looking at my hands as if nervous, which I was. I mourned the loss of my ring as I did—I supposed I’d have a lot of things to re-discover or create. And I wasn’t even going to think about The Hallows yet.

            Finally Dumbledore broke the silence, “Hadrea—” and yeah, I was going to need to do something about that, being called by my full name all the time was going to drive me up a wall. I’d gone by Harry for most of my life for a reason. “—could you tell me what happened after Eric handed you the cup?”

            Huh. So Eric had handed her the cup, meaning that Eric was likely the one in the tournament and was showing off his win. Which, assuming he still tied, would explain the lack of Cedric Diggory in the graveyard. I wondered if that meant Eric was the boy-who-lived in this universe. I still had the scar, and apparently I had still been the target—otherwise the portkey would hardly have waited to activate until it was handed to me, but I suppose it was entirely possible that the wizarding world had misconstrued the events of that night… as usual. Now I just needed to know who all knew the truth, assuming my theory was correct… and find out more about those events for myself.

            I shook my head as that went through my mind. Playing up the part of the reluctant victim— I’d certainly talked to enough of them to know how.

            “Dear girl,” I’d forgotten how much that moniker grated, “I understand that you have been through a very horrible experience, but we need to know what happened that way we can better act to keep others from experiencing something similar. Voldemort,” I shuddered. A) I had no idea if my alternate was one of the few who would actually say the name, and B) regardless I had just been presumably tortured by the man, so it would be a reasonable reaction to his name, “is back you’ve said. And we need to know everything we can to counter him,”

            I kept my head down and my silence for a minute more, before drawing in a shuddering breath.

            “I—the cup. It was a portkey.”

            I paused, glancing up and just now realizing I didn’t have bangs, which was another problem I’d need to correct asap. Dumbledore nodded at me.

            I quickly dropped my gaze—hopefully he wouldn’t get suspicious at the lack of eye-contact, but I couldn’t risk him running into my shields, not yet. “It took me to a graveyard,” shit, I had no idea if my alternate knew anything about Wormtail. Had no idea how he’d ended up there and if it was at all similar to how he had in my timeline. “There was a man, Wormtail, and he took my wand and tied me to a gravestone,” I left out the scar burning, no need to tell him anything he might not already know if I could avoid it. I had at least seen enough to know that the ritual had been the same, which was a relief.

            “There was a really big cauldron, and Wormtail—I couldn’t really see what he was doing but he said— b-b-bone of the father and umm flesh of the servant? I’m not sure, but he ss-screamed really loud. And then— then he— he,” I started to purposefully breath in quick gasps, hugging my arms around my waist, “He said blood of the enemy, forcibly taken you will revive your foe, and he-he,” I stopped pretending to be overwhelmed as I tried to figure out what to do, I knew there hadn’t been any cuts left after my arrival, and I hadn’t gotten hit after. I also knew that the clothes I had been wearing were pretty torn up…

            “Hadrea,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder, I flinched. Time was up. Time to improvise—luckily I’d learned from the best.

            “He cut my arm,” I said, letting my voice become hollow sounding, tired. “Took my blood, before healing it.” I let no inflections enter my tone. I was now playing the repressor.

            “He dropped something else in, and it got really bright. Then _he_ ,” I let my voice crack, “was there. He didn’t look at me, just talked to Wormtail. I don’t know what he said but then there were more people, Death Eaters and he was talking and a couple of them _screamed.”_ here I stopped again, burying my face in my hands and sobbing. Shaking my head violently when Dumbledore tried to ask me a question.

            Wormtail was dead. I had killed him. But Dumbledore couldn’t know. I didn’t know much about alternate me but I knew enough to know she wouldn’t just throw cutting curses at people—but… maybe…

            I took a deep shuddering breath, “He, _thanked me._ For bringing him back. He had Wormtail untie me… and-and… He used the _Imperius Curse_ , and-and-and I-I-I-- there was so much blood! It was everywhere and on me and it was on my hands and they just laughed and Wormtail wasn‘t-wasn’t moving and I-I-I _KILLED HIM!”_ I screamed the last bit before sliding out of my chair and grabbing my knees as I sobbed rocking gently back and forth.

            “My dear, dear girl. I am so sorry this had to happen to you. But you need to know, you. did. not. kill him. Voldemort may have used your body to accomplish it, but you are not responsible. I understand that this has been a very trying experience for you but I still need to know, what happened next Hadrea? How did you get back?”

            I slowly allowed my sobs to trail off. “I-I don’t remember much of the rest, I-I think I passed out, but I… the- the body was right next to me. And- I don’t- I don’t think they realized I was awake, but I-I-I grabbed Wormtail’s wand and summoned the cup,”

            I allowed the silence to stand, slowing my breathing down, as he digested what I had told him. Hopefully he would fill in the rest of the details on his own.

            “You did well, Hadrea,” he finally said, hand once again on my shoulder and allowing something like pride to seep into his tone. I wanted to vomit. “Thank-you. I will let you get back to your bed, you look like you could still use some rest. You have been very brave, and very helpful.”

            I nodded, allowing him to help me up and lead me towards the next room where the rest were gathered. Right before we got to the door I stopped, “Pro-professor,” I started shakily, “What—what happened with Profess—the man that was pretending to be Professor Moody? Who was he? Why, why did…” I trailed off. I would prefer to end the conversation here as the longer I talked to Dumbledore the more dangerous it would get—the more likely he would sense something was off, but I _needed_ all the information I could get, and this was a prime opportunity, so I steeled my nerves and waited.

            Dumbledore hesitated. “The man you knew as Alastor Moody was in fact Bartemius Crouch Jr. who had been using Polyjuice to impersonate him all year in order to force Eric to compete in the tournament. He was a servant of Voldemort before his defeat and was involved in the plan to bring him back by making the cup a portkey to transport Eric to the graveyard. Due to unlucky chance, you were sent in his place. After he took you we realized something was wrong and went after you immediately. He was detained and questioned while you were taken to the hospital wing. The minister was then called to deal with him. Unfortunately, he brought Dementors with him for protection, and upon entering the room, they descended upon Crouch and proceeded to give him the Dementor’s kiss—you are aware of what that entails?”

            I gave a hesitant nod, staring at my feet, brain rushing to process. Just hearing that name was enough to bring to mind an image of Hermione’s staring, dead eyes as she swayed gently from the roof of the ministry, and cause a flash of rage. But... he was soulless. No longer a threat. The Hermione of this world would not have to face weeks of torture at his hands. What else was different? My lack of information on this world was quickly turning into an unacceptable disability.

            Dumbledore looked at me for a moment more before opening the door and leading me through.

            As soon as the Potter’s had assured themselves I was alright, I was ushered up to bed, with a promise from Lily to be there to help me in the morning.

            Finally left alone, I changed back into the nightgown I had woken in, finally able to begin processing everything that had happened that day. I wished I had someone there to discuss everything with, but I was alone here.

            It hit me just how alone I was when I started to compose a prayer to Loki, just to let him know what was going on-- as was my habit when we were separated, and realized that even if he took the time to pay attention to my prayer he wouldn’t understand… wouldn’t respond. That he wouldn’t be _my_ Gabriel. My friend, maybe even my best-friend after recent events. That he wouldn’t share the memories I had, wouldn’t _know_ me.

            I felt the burning behind my nose that signaled tears as I realized that no-one would _know_ me here. No one would have the memories I did. Draco, Fred and George, Dean and Sam, Bobby-- none of them. No one I was accustomed to confiding in would be in a position where I could feel comfortable confiding in them here. I had no idea if any of them would even be anything like their counterparts-- what I knew of my own alternate did not paint a promising picture.

            I fell heavily into the vanity chair, staring listlessly into the mirror. The girl looking back at me was utterly foreign. I wanted Gabriel, wanted his corny jokes and off-colour humor to make me laugh, wanted him to tease me until I didn’t find the situation so overwhelming. I needed to hear his pessimistic forecast of the future followed by his version of the silver lining. Needed to see his eyes letting me know that I wasn’t alone. Wanted to be held-- _oh._

I finally allowed a few tears to escape with my bitter laughter as I admitted far too late what I had long ago realized but been too scared to face-- that I had been in love with him all along, and now he was out of my reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me such a hard time you have no idea. But I have returned! From the void of RL, writer’s block, no internet, unruly muses, and NaNoWriMo; I have returned with a completed chapter! I hope everyone still reading enjoys this chapter.  
> Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural or Harry Potter.

**Chapter 6: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage-**

_Applause, applause, no wait wait_

_Dear studio audience, I've an announcement to make:_

_It seems the artists these days are not who you think_

_So we'll pick back up on that on another page_

_And I believe this may call for a proper introduction, and well_

_Don't you see, I'm the narrator and this is just the prologue_

-Panic! At the Disco

 

Harry looked around curiously as she dismounted her bike, she seemed to be in some sort of college town. She wondered what had drawn Dean and Sam-- and so by extension her-- here, however investigations could wait until she found a motel, preferably a step up from where the Winchesters would be staying in order to avoid them realizing she was in the same town.

She clenched her fists around her helmet in frustration that it was even necessary to avoid them-- to be dependent on a combination of tracking charms to keep up with their location, but given how they had last parted, it would not be in her best interests to run into them again. Hopefully, they would come around, she missed travelling with them, missed the camaraderie. _‘Are you sure that’s the only thing you’re missing?’_ that little voice in her head whispered, but she ignored it, instead walking into the corner-store to see if there was a map or leaflet for the area that would tell her where she could find a halfway decent motel.

A few hours later found her putting some last minute touches on her disguise, because while she may be many things, sloppy was not one of them-- and being recognized by the wonder twins while at the bar after putting in all the effort to follow them incognito would be unforgivably sloppy.

She’d gone with a medium length dark brunette wig, and a pair of blue contacts which tended to create some really fantastic shades of teal when combined with her natural eye color. She’d used a few spells to alter her face shape slightly, softening her jaw line and smoothing out some of the angles of her face, along with adding a slight crook to her nose. She’d learned a long time ago that a few well chosen, subtle changes went a long way, and tended to be much easier to work around than a more in depth disguise.

She was also toning down her usual style a bit, using a softer charcoal eyeshadow, and only lining her top lid, along with choosing a lighter purple lipstick instead of her usual deep tones. She enforced the softer feel by pairing her dark wash jeans with a slightly shimmery teal draped tank-top and a pair of strappy silver heels.

She took one last look in the mirror, making sure most of her scars were completely hidden by a concealing cream, before grabbing her wallet and room key off the nightstand, shrugging into her leather jacket, and heading out the door-- choosing to walk to the bar rather than risk her baby being recognized.

 

Once she’s made it inside, she meanders her way to the bar, keeping an ear on the conversations around her, storing useful seeming tidbits away for later use. Taking a seat at a stool slightly to one side, she flags down the bartender for a drink. Pulling out her current ID and the matching credit card for one Gracelyn Westley, she orders a beer.

She takes a sip, relaxing into her seat and allowing a lazy smile to curl at her lips as she scopes out the bar for a promising target, she’s here for information, yes, but she has no intentions of leaving alone tonight.

She tilts her head in interest when she catches a snippet of conversation from a table a little to the right of her seat, one of the ones set up by the pool tables to sit drinks and phones and cigarette cartons on, or lean the pool sticks against.

“I’m just saying, it’s horrible how it happened and all, but I’m not sad he’s gone. He was creepy,” a blonde is saying, sipping at some sort of mixed drink, as she waits for her turn.

“Sadie, that’s an awful thing to say!” the short haired brunette next to her slurs, giggling as she leans against the the boy chalking up his pool stick.

The boy who had been shooting finally finishes his turn, making his way back to the table and grabbing his beer as he suggests, “That is a pretty harsh comment Sadie,” then turning to the other boy, “Cam, your go.”

“All I’m saying is he was creepy,” Sadie shrugs, finishing off her glass and grabbing her  pool stick as ‘Cam’ fails to make his shot.

“Seemed alright to me, for a teacher at least,” Cam shrugged. The other boy nodded his head in agreement.

Sadie scoffed, as she set up her next shot, managing to make a pretty impressive shot that missed the 8 ball by a hair. “Easy enough for you to say, you’re not girls. Besides, haven’t you heard any of the rumors?” She asks as she examines the table to determine what her next move would be.

“What rumors?” the currently unnamed boy asks with a tilt to his head.

Sadie takes her shot, missing the corner pocket by a hair before answering as the giggly brunette stumbles her way over for her turn, “Well, word in some of the girls dorms is that he’ll bump up your grade by a letter. If…” she trails off as the boys lean in.

“If what?” Cam finally asks. The brunette plops into his lap at that moment, announcing, “If you're willing to trade sexual favors of course.”

“Chandler!” Cam exclaims, shocked at her bluntness.

“What? It’s true, the older girls make it a point to warn the newbies not to be alone in the office with him if they can help it,” the girl now identified as Chandler slurs, gesturing at Sadie.

The boys both turn disbelieving expressions to her as she nods.

“Wow, that’s messed up,” the stocky unidentified boy says, shaking his head as he chalks his pool stick.

Harry decides to make her entrance as Sadie picks up her drink before frowning upon realizing it’s empty.

“Talking about the dead Professor?” she asks, sidling her way over to stand by the pretty blonde.

The group turns to look at her in confusion for a moment, the boy actually stopping mid-shot.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that was completely rude of me,” she exclaims, “I came over to ask the pretty lady here,” she gestures to Sadie, “if I could buy her a drink, and caught the end of your conversation. I’m Grace by the way.”

Sadie immediately blushes and starts to stammer, “I-I I’m sorry but, ummm, I’m not-- I don’t--”

The still unnamed boy makes his way over, slinging an arm around the blonde’s shoulder, “She would love to let you buy her a drink,” in a loudly whispered aside he tells Sadie, “Sadie. When a pretty girl asks to buy you a drink, you say yes.”

The poor girl goes completely red, whisper-shouting “Daniel!”

Harry smiles, “Sadie, huh? It suits you, princess. But don’t worry, I’m not going to push you into anything you're not comfortable with. I’ll be perfectly happy to simply make conversation with a beautiful girl,” she gives Sadie an admiring look, not heated enough to make the blonde uncomfortable, but enough to demonstrate her interest. If she wasn’t mistaken, and she rarely was, Sadie was not nearly as uninterested as she thought she was, or as she’d like to seem. Harry couldn’t resist the slight smirk curling the edges of her lips. While she meant what she said about not pushing her into anything she was uncomfortable with-- she liked her partners willing and interested-- she was not above _persuading_ the girl into the idea of experimenting.

“Oooh, I like her,” Chandler says, leaning back into Cam, who wraps his arm around her.

Daniel rolls his eyes, as Sadie seems to become shy, “Grace, yes?”

Harry nods.

“Right, I’m Daniel, the lovebirds over there are Chandler and Cameron, and as you’ve already gathered the speechless wonder here is Sadie. While we wait for her to regain the power of coherent thought, you’re welcome to join in our game-- Chandler is drunk enough that she’s not really accomplishing much,” “Hey!” “or you can just sit and hang with us until Sadie can take you up on that drink offer. To answer your earlier question, we were indeed talking about Professor Johnson. Were you taking his class?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I had considered signing up for it, but then I had a run in with the Professor,” she closes her eyes with a grimace, “The way he looked at me, well… I decided that I didn’t need to take Ethics and Morality this semester after all. Still, what happened to him,” she shakes her head again, taking a gamble that the Professor was the one that the table with too many pitchers had been discussing.

“Yeah, falling out a window can’t be a good way to go,” Cameron says, taking a swig of his beer.

“Falling?” Sadie scoffs, re-entering the conversation, “He jumped. If you ask me I think his wife must have caught wind of his affairs and he panicked. Anyways, let's talk about something else.”

Daniel shrugs, turning to Harry, “What are you majoring in?”

Harry adopts a sheepish expression, “Haven’t really settled on a major to be honest. I’m actually looking into doing a personalized degree, but I’m still working through the details. It’s a lot more complicated than it would be to just pick a major, but nothing has really spoken to me yet,” she shrugs. “So what about you guys?” she addresses the table as a whole, but her attention is unmistakably directed at Sadie.

 

Several hours later, and Harry had managed to actually buy Sadie a drink. Daniel and Sadie had joined her at the bar after Cam escorted a stumbling Chandler out, saying that he was going to get her home before she passed out.

The conversation was flowing pretty well between the three of them, Sadie seeming to become more comfortable the longer they talked, drinks mostly ignored on the bartop. Eventually however, Daniel stood, saying he was headed out. He pulled Sadie aside briefly before he left, though Harry didn’t try and listen in this time, checking her phone to see that it was 15 minutes past 1 in the morning. The bar would only be open about 45 minutes or so more then.

As Sadie made her way back to the barstool next to her, Harry sensed someone entering the bar-- someone with powerful magic. The chaotic, wild magic made the hair on her arms stand up. However, she saw no need to confront the owner of the magic unless given cause, so she went back to her conversation, absently tracking the magic as it moved through the room.

“So, Princess,” she leans closer, her hand coming to rest on the other girl’s thigh, “I know I said I wouldn’t push you into anything, and that still stands, however,” her thumb begins to move slowly back and forth as her voice gains a huskier edge, “I figured I should make sure you’re aware of all of your options.” She watches as Sadie’s eyes dilate, the girl's breath catching as Harry’s other hand comes up to brush some of that blonde hair away from her face, however Sadie makes no move to stop her, so she continues.

“You could tell me to stop, and we can go back to just talking and forget this ever happened. Or…” she trails off for a moment, watching as Sadie swayed further into her space. “Or we could get out of here,” her hand creeps a little further up the girl's thigh, “and I could help you find out if you might not be interested in women after all. I have a hotel room nearby. 100% strings free. No expectations. Anytime you decide you want out, we stop. And in the morning we go our separate ways.”

She leans in further still, only inches separating their faces now. “What do you say princess? Up for a night of expectation free experimentation?”

“I-I,” Sadie starts before swallowing and beginning to close the last of the distance on her own, eyes never breaking contact with Harry’s own as she nervously licks her lips.

“Well what _do_ we have here?” A loud voice suddenly interrupts.

Sadie startles like a nervous deer, eyes wide as she looks around before stuttering, “I-I I have to go,” and bolting.

Harry sighs, before turning to face the interruption-- of course the owner of the wild magic wouldn’t just ignore her, why did she expect anything different, “Well thanks for that mate,” she gripes a small scowl on her face as she takes him in, a hint of her original accent slipping into her voice.

He was short. That was the first thing that she noticed. Granted, having travelled with Big and Bigger for the last however the hell long, she was sure her perception of normal heights was skewed, but even if it wasn’t, she thought he would still seem short (admittedly, she was fairly tall herself). He stood a few centimetres shorter than her own height of 175 cm, taking the heels into account. His hair was fairly messy- she thought it might be some shade of brown, but the lighting was too dim to tell for sure. His face was set in a cocky smirk, and his presence of personality more than made up the height difference now that she was paying attention. It was his eyes that caught her attention however, they were a strange shifting shade- somewhere between gold and amber. But as unusual as the color was, it was the depth of emotion behind them that made them so captivating, this was someone who felt things deeply. However, despite the wealth of emotions behind his eyes, it was impossible for her to read or name any of them.

“Well which one are you then?” she asks, recognizing the flavor unique to Pagan Magic, as she activated the limited Mage Sight available to her. Her Sensing ability was much stronger, but using the two in conjunction tended to give her the most accurate and complete picture. The flavor was too strong to mark him as simply blessed by a God/Goddess, and the strength of the Magic marked him as a Major God. She couldn’t narrow down a Pantheon, as she didn’t have enough experience with any of them to identify them by their Magic.

He looks at her for a moment before grinning, “Now that would be telling,” he answers with a smirk, turning to lean against the bartop.

She shrugs, letting it go for now.

“So what is one of your kind doing here, in the middle of one of the most mundane cities in the world?” He asks curiously.

“Well I was _attempting_ to find some company for the night. Unfortunately,” she shoots a glare his way, “ _Somebody_ felt the need to scare her off.”

“Sweetheart, I do hope you realise that she was straight.”

She snorts, “She certainly wouldn’t have been tonight.”

She lurked in the shadows of the auditorium, watching the confrontation under her invisibility cloak, her aura masked as best she could. She gave the boys props for the fake argument, that had been a good plan, and bringing in Singer an even better one. It was not, however, enough to give them the upper hand it would seem. She watched a masked man attack Sam and Singer with a chainsaw as the two gorgeous lingerie clad illusion-women attacked Dean. She wondered if Dean was as distracted by the two during their fight as she was watching because… _Damn._

The Pagan God she’d met the other night, now revealed as a Trickster God which shortened the list of possibilities considerably, seemed to be really enjoying watching the hunters fight for their lives… But there was something… She couldn’t quite put her finger on it… She did, however, notice that both the Chainsaw man and the women had passed up the opportunity to actually kill their targets several times now, as each time she had been prepared to step in and save the idiots’ lives.

The fight eventually came to a head as the women threw Dean, who landed in the seats near where the Trickster was observing the fights. He started clapping, announcing, “Nice toss, ladies! Nice show!” as he slowly stood.

She went tense, nearly all her attention now turned to where he was approaching Dean chanting, “Dean.... Dean, Dean, Dean,” she noticed again that something that had struck her as off earlier- something… not quite right-- he didn’t feel, _alive_. Her mind began racing as soon as the thought formed. Since gathering the Hallows she had noticed that living things gave off this… feeling of sorts. It was hard to describe exactly what it was she was feeling, just that all living things had it to different degrees- it was weaker in those close to death she had noticed, and that was not the only thing she had begun ‘sensing’ after collecting the Hallows.

Regardless, the Trickster in front of her did not give off the same feeling of alive that he had given off when she had spoken to him in the bar. In fact, she realized, he was giving off a feeling much more akin to that of the Chainsaw man and the conjured women, except much more strongly saturated with magic.

“I did not want to have to do this,” the Trickster said, shaking his head, but she was no longer paying attention to what she was almost certain now was a projection. She was expanding her senses out, still trying to keep her presence masked, attempting to pinpoint his actual location if she could. It was not an easy task. The room had been saturated in magic prior to this confrontation-- maybe to help disguise what exactly was happening here from the outside. However she was determined.

“Me neither,” Dean’s voice, and _there!_

Glancing at the Winchester she noticed that he had stabbed a stake through the projection, which must have been what caused the slip she had noticed. Taking a look around the room she watched the other projections disappear, while the now stabbed ‘Trickster’ stayed.

Sam and Bobby approached Dean and the body, both looking a little worse for wear. None of them were seriously injured as far as she could tell.

“You guys okay?” asked Dean.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam answered, giving an uncertain look to the body.

“Well, I gotta say… he had style,” and a shoulder clasp was Dean’s rough attempt to comfort his brother. Harry rolled her eyes, but had to acknowledge the point. Besides, this had been a very well done plan-- assuming the wonder twins didn’t stumble into a clue Scooby Doo style. She wondered how many times the trickster god had pulled off a similar con, how many hunters were out there thinking they’d ‘done their duty’ and killed him while he was off continuing his work.

Eventually Singer reminded the boys that it would be a bad idea to be found near a dead body, and the three made their exit. She stayed put, waiting.

She’d give him points for caution, she decided almost an hour later. It was getting dark out, and she could feel the tracker on the Winchesters moving further away like an itch she couldn’t scratch-- but she stayed. Why, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she was here to finish the job-- she didn’t go for tricksters that kept to their normal victimology, and everything she’d seen said this one did. Besides-- she didn’t feel like drawing the wrath of a pantheon by taking out a Pagan God that wasn’t considered rogue. There was just something keeping her here, telling her to stay just a bit longer; and she had never been one to ignore her instincts.

A few moments later and her patience paid off. The Trickster suddenly faded into view where she had picked up on his presence earlier, before walking over to his ‘body’ and unwrapping a chocolate bar. He stared at it in silence for a few moments before it shimmered and disappeared.

She removed the cloak and stopped masking her presence so strongly as he went to take a bite of his candy with a smile. A smile that instantly became more of a smirk as he stiffened for half a moment before relaxing again.

She walked down the aisle, slowly clapping. “Well played. Very nicely done,” she drawled as he slowly turned to face her.

“Well, I _am_ the best after all,” he said with a wink. “Here to finish what those chuckleheads started?” he asked with a grand-gesture at himself and a tilted head, his voice inviting her to share in the joke. Feeling out if she was a hunter-traitor or not, she supposed. Which… well… she was- but she wasn’t, so she figured she could just let him sweat that one out himself.

“Hmmmm… that an invitation to try my strength? Intriguing, however I’m not really in the mood for challenging Pagan Gods at the moment, you could try again next week if you really want a fight I suppose,” she drawls leaning her hip against the chair next to her.

“I like to consider myself more of a lover than a fighter, but color me intrigued. That was some impressive concealing magic, if that’s an indication of what you’re capable of, then we may have to find ourselves an arena next week and make like Gladiators.”

She gave an artful shudder, “Gladiators? How… appropriately barbaric. I suppose I’m willing to be convinced, it’d be interesting to see how my strengths compare to those of a God. Of course, as I still don’t know which you are, you’ll have to understand why I find myself… understandably leery of making any deals… especially with a Trickster God.”

He actually laughed at that, “I suppose you’ll just have to travel with me for the next week. Try and figure out who I am and if you’re willing to make a deal,” he gave her a particularly sleazy wink and once-over, but curiously enough, actually seemed sincere in his offer.

She paused. For a long moment she observed him, just evaluating, weighing what she knew and could sense about this strange being in front of her. She allowed herself a sigh, feeling the tension build in her shoulders as she glanced in the direction of the pull from the tracker. She shouldn’t be considering this, considering abandoning what she had taken on as her duty, considering abandoning those two boys. But. But she was so _tired_ , and she was finally admitting it to herself. She was tired of fighting for a cause that always seemed so ready to turn on her, felt like she was running scared, stretched thin in all the ways she had been after Petunia died. The way she had been in that first realization that Dumbledore had failed, that he was leading them to their deaths in a betrayal that was all the worse because she hadn’t noticed that despite her personal distaste for the headmaster she had at least expected- _depended_ upon him being a good leader, someone who could pull the wizarding community through the catastrophe while she figured out how to end it.

And this man- this Trickster God, he was offering her an out she hadn’t even acknowledged she needed until this point. It went against everything she stood for to back away, to truly abandon the Winchesters to their own devices as they had demanded she do. She stared into the distance, torn, before glancing back at the god’s face.

He was looking at her with a resigned understanding, something still surprised in his expression as if he couldn’t quite believe himself he’d actually meant his invitation. He didn’t expect her to take the offer, she realized. Was waiting on her to brush it off as the joke it had been meant to be, and leave. She felt something shift at that realization and straightened, allowing an easy expression to settle over whatever her face had been displaying, her decision was made. All that remained was to follow through. The Winchesters would carry on as they must, and she would always be a phone call away. But she was ready to take a chance on something new, to step forth into the unknown once more to find out if she would shatter or make it to the other side stronger again.

“Where to then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you all for reading!


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